


Back to Work

by xenospider



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, ask-spiderpool - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Bad Jokes, Blow Job, Bottom Wade, Emotions, Feeding, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, Smut, Top Peter, ask-spiderpool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 09:28:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12745602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenospider/pseuds/xenospider
Summary: Peter's gone back to work at the Bugle after an eventful hiatus. His relationship with Wade is still new, but Wade wants to show him how much he appreciates Peter and his efforts. Peter loves Wade, so much, but he's afraid to say it.An ask-spiderpool fic.





	Back to Work

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sciderman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciderman/gifts).



Peter couldn’t wait to get home. That day had been an awful, horrible, all around bad day. Which wasn’t much of a surprise, since he’d had to suffer the wrath and indignity of J. Jonah Jameson again. He’d had to go back to his old job, to pretend that the city hadn’t been turned upside-down, while at the same time documenting it in detail. His camera was full of photos of destroyed buildings, rubble, garbage, as well as angry people. Citizens were still upset with their heroes for dragging their conflict out into the streets. Peter could hardly blame them.

The Parker Luck had held out, too, and it had started raining halfway through his shift while wandering the city to photograph the aftermath of the battle. Now he was stood in front of his apartment door, soaking wet, and missing one of his damn shoes. He didn’t even bother pushing the hair off his forehead where it was plastered when he fumbled in his pocket for his keys. Curling his fingers around them, he pulled them out and looked down at the little Deadpool keychain dangling from the key ring.

Wade was home, waiting for him. That was a good thing. He wanted to be really excited about that, but he was too grouchy and cold and wet and tired to feel it.

_Click_ went the deadbolt, and Peter turned the knob to enter the apartment properly. His one remaining shoe squelched as he stepped inside, dripping mud and rainwater all over the welcome mat.

“I’m home,” he said, voice thick and soggy with the general malaise hanging over his head.

“Welcome home, baby boy!”

Peter blinked his eyes slowly and dropped his shoulder bag onto the floor by the door. He stared at Wade, who was standing there wearing his full costume with the addition of a frilly pink apron on over it, and a yellow flower pinned to the side of his mask. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he tilted his head at Peter expectantly.

Somehow the apron tied around Wade’s waist didn’t look silly, but in fact looked… flattering? How the hell did Wade pull that off? Still, he was not in the mood for Wade’s goofing off right then.

“Uh, thanks,” he said, pushing the door closed behind him with his foot. In contrast to how soaked through he was, he was parched. He wasn’t going to go to the kitchen for a drink without giving Wade a kiss, though.

Stepping forward to give Wade a quick smack on the lips through his mask, he turned to head for their tiny ass kitchen. “I’m so thirsty. You would not believe the fucking day I’ve had.”

Padding along behind him, Wade put his hands on Peter’s shoulders and kneaded his muscles. “You know I am very grateful,” he said, fingers still working. “My good strong man, so responsible, going to work and bringing home the bacon. I’m _so_ proud of you.”

Peter didn’t appreciate the sarcasm, but he didn’t have the energy to tell Wade off, so he just sighed and gave him a _look_ over his shoulder as he pulled a glass down from the cupboard. When he put on the tap to fill it, Wade wrapped his arms around his waist and rested his chin on Peter’s shoulder.

“My hard working man, taking care of business even in one shoe,” Wade murmured against his ear.

“Wade, please,” Peter said, shrugging him off and sticking the glass under the spigot. “Today sucked. I don’t need you making fun of me on top of it.” He knocked back the glass of water in two seconds and reached forward to refill it.

Strong hands curled around his waist and flipped him around so his back was to the counter. He kept a grip on the glass, but water did not obey his sticky powers and it sloshed over onto Wade’s shirt.

“I’m hurt, Petey. When have I ever made fun of you?”

Peter gave him a dry look. “Do you want the list chronologically, or alphabetically?”

Lifting a hand, Wade tugged up the bottom of his mask to hook it over his nose. He leaned in and gave Peter a better kiss--a slightly minty kiss, meaning he had brushed his teeth recently--pressing against Peter just enough to make him remember all they’d been sharing physically recently. Warmth bloomed in his belly, and a quiet noise made its way up his throat.

When Wade moved back, Peter said, “I’m soaked. You’re getting yourself all wet.”

“I don’t care,” Wade said. “And I mean it. I really am proud of you.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Come on. I’m not a child.”

“Do you have to be a child for someone to be proud of you? You said you were proud of me once.”

Well, that was true enough. Peter _was_ proud of the changes that Wade had made in his life. Still, he couldn’t help himself and said, “You are a child.”

Wade laughed and cupped Peter’s face, stealing another kiss, this one harder and longer, making Peter curl the fingers of his free hand into the stupid ruffles of the stupid pretty apron Wade was wearing.

“Look at you, all muddy and tired, tromping around the city for a man who hates you, when you’ve risked your life for years to save people who wouldn’t know you if they knocked you over in an elevator. And there you go, off to work to make the money to keep food on the table and power in the TV.”

“Because the TV is just as important as food,” Peter said, though Wade’s words were making him feel all wobbly and tingly in ways he couldn’t quite describe.

“You know what’s just as important too?” Wade said. “Showing my man how much I appreciate him.”

“With a pink apron.”

“Yes! And this.” Wade grabbed Peter’s hand. Peter only just had time to set the glass down on the counter to avoid spilling it before Wade yanked him through the apartment to their eating table, which had miraculously been cleaned off.

In addition, in the middle of the table sat an ice bucket wherein rested a bottle of champagne, and next to it was a (clearly store bought) cake with icing balloons, edible confetti, and _CONGRATULATIONS_ written on it in big bold letters.

“What--” Peter made a startled noise as Wade yanked him again and made him sit down in one of the two ricketty chairs around the table.

Wade spread his arms. “Ta-da!”

“What is this?”

“Aw, come on Pete, don’t be a party pooper.” Wade draped his big arms over Peter’s shoulders from behind and nuzzled the hair behind his ear, making him shiver. “I knew today would suck. And since you’re the big bread winner now, I wanted to treat you. Rub your back, maybe rub your stinky feet later. And I got champagne and everything!”

“Yes, I see that.” Peter bit his lip, trying not to react too strongly, though Wade’s efforts were uncharacteristically sweet. “You really didn’t have to do all this…”

“But it’s _so_ worth it! I promise!” Wade got up and snagged the champagne bottle. “This is the _good_ stuff!”

“Well. There goes all the money I earned today.”

Ignoring that comment, Wade hummed happily as he pranced into the kitchen and collected a couple of champagne flutes from the top of the fridge. Peter wondered where the hell he even got those things. He was pretty sure they hadn’t owned any before. When Wade set one down in front of him, it made a sound on the table that was distinctly squeaky. Peter flicked it gently with a fingernail and confirmed that it was plastic.

“You got these at the dollar store, didn’t you.”

“Only the best for my baby boy!” Wade ripped the foil off the top of the champagne and started fiddling with the wires, propping the bottle against his hip. With a flourish and a twist of his wrist, the cork popped free. As a fountain of bubbles spurted out the end, the cork shot into the air.

And impacted with Peter’s forehead.

“Ow!” Peter cried, hand flying to the spot above his left eyebrow. Damn his spider-sense for not working on Wade!

“Oh! Oh fuck, shit, fuck, Petey, I’m sorry!” Wade set the bottle down and rushed to Peter’s side. He tried to pull Peter’s hand away, but Peter wouldn’t let him.

“You shot me!” Peter said. “... again!” It didn’t hurt _that_ much, comparatively speaking, but the indignity of it made it worse than it was.

Wade managed to get Peter’s hand away from his face, and started plastering him with kisses, apologizing profusely in-between each one. He really was sorry, he hadn’t meant to, he didn’t want to ruin Peter’s special day. Being so over the top, Peter finally batted him away, telling him it was all right, though his face was red with embarrassment over all of Wade’s gushing. Really, it was too much!

But after an awful shit day, some part of him enjoyed being pampered. Though he would run naked through the streets of New York before he admitted it.

… Scratch that. Bad example. There'd been one time when that had almost happened.

Wade was pouring champagne for him with exaggerated care, much more care than Peter knew he’d usually spend on something. Peter leaned his chin on one elbow and smirked up at him.

“You’re so cute when you’re earnest.”

“Aw, thank you honey buns!” Wade grinned. He gave a quick curtsy, while at the same time filling his own glass much more sloppily than he had Peter’s. “I knew the apron would work,” he added, partly to himself.

Wade started humming, bouncing his hips to a beat in his head, and circled around the table while Peter watched. He just to see what Wade was going to do, curious about this ritual being performed for his benefit. Besides, he was worn out, and had used up most of his quips earlier in the day arguing with angry civilians. Not to mention Jameson. And it was still so good to have Wade back, with his energy, his enthusiasm, and his bubbly noises and random singing filling up the apartment. It had been so empty and lonely without it.

Peter’s heart clenched and his breath hitched in his throat at that thought, and he took a big swig of champagne to swallow down the feeling. Wade was here now, and wasn't going anywhere.

He hoped.

“So,” Peter said, “what kind of cake did you get me?”

“A yummy fudgy chocolate cake!” Wade said, grinning. Setting a plate and a fork down next to Peter's champagne, he pulled out a knife which was hugely oversized for the purpose of cutting a cake,and extracted a large slice. He slid it off onto Peter's plate. 

Peter reached for the fork, but Wade smacked his hand away, clearing his throat meaningfully. He glared at Peter’s drink until Peter got the message and raised it. Apparently they were… making a toast. That wasn’t embarrassing at all. Not at all.

“To the man of the house!” Wade lifted his glass. “My good man, my responsible man, without whom I would be eating trash out of a dumpster right now probably.”

“Ugh, please tell me you have not _actually_ ever eaten trash. I've _kissed_ that mouth.”

Wade waved a hand in the air. “I can't make any promises.”

“Gross.” 

Suddenly, Wade jumped up and flopped his belly down onto the table, scooting across towards Peter. Barely missing the cake. 

Peter jerked back instinctively. “Hey! What--?”

Leather-gloved fingers wrapped around Peter’s fork, and stabbed through the cake. Before Peter could complain about Wade stealing his cake, the mouthful was offered to _him_ , instead. He pulled it off the fork before it could be stolen for real.

Damn, that was some _good_ cake. Peter closed his eyes and ran his tongue around his mouth to enjoy the flavor. Forget how much the champagne had cost--how much had the _cake_ cost?

“I’m sorry you had a hard day,” Wade said, sincerity clear in his voice. “Why don’t you sit back and complain about it and I’ll feed you cake?”

Peter blinked. “Why--”

“ _Pleeeease_?” Wade propped his chin on his hand and tilted his head coyly. “I know how much you love to complain.”

Sighing, Peter said, “I… actually don’t have the energy to complain right now.” There was nothing about the day that he wanted to rehash. He just wanted to forget about it and move on.

“Whatever you like, sweetness,” Wade purred, sticking the fork through the mushy chocolate again. “I’ll just feed you then.”

It was another minute before Peter agreed, after which Wade fed him bite after bite of cake. In-between bites, he drank his champagne also, even after Wade refilled it. He wasn’t planning on going out on patrol for another few hours anyway, the alcohol would be out of his system by then.

At first, Peter was nervous and stiff, and commented on how silly this was, being fed like a child. He hammed it up, making “yum” noises and making Wade giggle by making faces at him. Eventually, though, he gave in to Wade’s calming, textured voice, and just sat there and let Wade feed him.

This was relaxing. Why was this so relaxing? Was it the champagne? How much had he drunk? Was it the calories in the cake?

“Want another slice?” Wade asked, pushing the rest of the cake across the table.

Peter shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“Mm, all right, if you say so,” Wade said. He pointed a finger at Peter’s face. “But you’ve got a little…” Pushing himself closer, he stuck out his tongue and swiped it over the corner of Peter’s mouth. This he followed up by giving Peter a full kiss, leaning into him.

Peter sighed into the embrace, curling his fingers in Wade’s shirt to hold him closer and kiss him deeper. He wanted to just melt into him, wrap up in the comfort of having him there and whole. Alive and together. 

When they separated, Wade gave him a boop on the nose, and a big grin. “Do you want your dessert now?”

Peter smirked at him, and decided to play ignorant. “Isn't the cake dessert? Though we did skip dinner.”

“Oh, baby boy, when I saw that look on your face I just couldn't wait to give you your sweet treat. I do have chicken nuggets in the microwave, but I have something else in mind right now.”

“Chicken nuggets? Wow, fancy.”

Wade stroked Peter's face gently, trailing his fingers down his neck. “I'm hungry for another kind of meat, myself.” He flicked his tongue out and wiggled it in a way that looked ridiculous, but it was also a way that he'd used on Peter's dick. That made it clear exactly what he meant. 

Peter swallowed, his face growing hot and a tightness squeezing low in his belly. Wade had hardly been able to keep his hands—or mouth—off of him for five minutes since they'd tumbled in through the window after that awful day. He was hardly complaining, because _damn_ Wade knew what he was doing, but as consequence it barely took two words out of Wade's mouth before a certain part of Peter's anatomy stood up to pay attention.

Wade had already given him a blowjob earlier that morning before Peter had left for work. Now he wanted to give him _another_ one. Peter felt like he was getting spoiled, but also Wade seemed to _really_ enjoy doing it. 

“Is that so?” Peter said around the lump in his throat.

Sliding gracefully off the table––a mean feat, considering his bulk––Wade pushed Peter’s chair back and slipped into his lap. After adjusting his apron, he curled his arms around Peter’s neck. “It is definitely so. Also, you should definitely carry me to bed, my big strong man.”

Well. Peter could hardly argue with that. “Oh, am I your big strong man?”

Pressing his lips to Peter’s ear, Wade rumbled, “Mmm, the biggest and the strongest.” It sent a shiver down Peter's back. “Now take me to bed so I can devour your mcnuggies.”

“Ugh, _please_ don't say that.” Peter picked him up anyway, ignoring the way Wade nuzzled at his neck. Well, he tried to ignore it, but it felt nice, and he turned his head into it to press his lips against Wade's temple. 

It wasn't long before they were in the bedroom, stripping each other's clothes off (Peter’s in a soggy pile), hands roaming. Peter was all for losing himself in this, which was more familiar as time went on and they kept falling into bed together. This would be a great distraction. 

No, more than that. Wade wasn't a distraction. He felt a lot more than that for Wade. He was in love with him. 

The words were on the tip of his tongue as he trailed fingers over Wade's sides and Wade sucked kisses into his neck (muttering nonsense words in French or something). They hovered there, fluttering, wanting to come out. He held them back, still waiting for the right moment, hopeful but also a little afraid—even now. He'd been mired in heavy feelings all day; he wasn't sure if he could handle more. 

Dipping down, Peter was about to heft Wade up onto the bed when he stopped him. Before he could ask, Wade was the one scooping _him_ up. Peter squeaked as Wade tossed him onto the bed, and laughed when he landed. This was one of Peter's favorite games. Who'd pick who up first? 

Once his head hit the pillow, Wade climbed over him. He was wearing the apron again, and Peter shook his head, dizzy and giddy. Why did Wade look so good in that? Just a pink apron? Damn! 

“I don't understand how you can pull that off and still look so sexy,” he said. 

Wade hummed and pressed his fingers into Peter's chest, dragging them down his abs towards the hot flesh lying against his stomach. “I got all kinds of mad skills, baby boy. Don't you know that by now?”

The pink fabric dragging against Peter's skin when Wade shuffled down further made Peter inhale sharply, and instinctively he spread his hands over Wade's bald, textured head. When the wet heat of Wade's mouth drew down over his cock, he canted his hips, letting his thighs part further. 

“Fuck, that's so good, you're so good Wade, goddamn…” Wade had to know it was good. He had to know how Peter was feeling. 

After a few minutes of Wade's enthusiastic slurping and Peter's gasping, Wade pulled off and wrapped rough fingers around Peter's cock. He stroked, smirking up at Peter. “Looks like someone's a little pent up. Did you miss me today, while you were out being all manly and responsible?”

Yeah. Wade didn't know how much. Too many reminders of awful things. “You already got me in bed. You don't have to be so cheesy.” As if the two of them were ever anything but cheesy. 

“Aw, honey,” Wade rubbed his lips over the tip of Peter's dick, smearing precum all over his mouth. “Didn't I tell you already that I mean every word?”

Yes, but Peter didn't feel very good and responsible. He'd made so many mistakes recently. 

Something wet touched Peter lower, and Wade hummed happily as he ravished Peter's balls with his tongue, stroking Peter's dick with his fingers. Peter curled his hands into the sheets and groaned, wrapping his legs around Wade's shoulders. “Fuck, Wade! Fuck!”

“Such a dirty mouth on you!”

“Y-you’re the one with the dirty mouth right now,” Peter countered brilliantly. 

“Oh, but your mcnuggies are so delicious.” Wade opened his mouth wide to bathe Peter's sack more thoroughly. 

“Oh my god. Shut up.” But Peter was shivering, quivering with sensation and heat. “I can't believe you're using that joke again.”

“I only aim to please, Petey.” Drawing his tongue up Peter's length again, Wade sat up once more, wiggling out from between Peter's legs to straddle him. Wondering what Wade was up to, Peter reached up to pull him down for a kiss, taking both their erections in his long fingers. 

“Oh, baby,” Wade said. “You have such clever, dexterous fingers, but I have something else in mind.”

Peter panted a little, still moving his hand. “What's.. _hah_ … that?”

Wade ground his hips down on Peter’s, naked skin sliding together, and hummed against his ear. “ _Let’s go all the way tonight. No regrets, just love,_ ” he sang, caressing Peter’s sides, rocking against him.

Frozen staring at the ceiling, Peter tried to process all the thoughts that suddenly buzzed in his head, made difficult by the hot arousal that made him shiver. Instead of worrying yet about what that meant _exactly_ , or succumbing to his desire to say, _Yes, I love you!_ , he squeezed Wade’s dick. “Did you just sing Katy Perry at me?”

“Mm!” Peter felt Wade grin against his ear, followed by more words in Wade’s husky voice, “I did. I want to feel you, baby boy. I wanna ride your dick into the sunset.”

“Unngh,” Peter groaned, another shiver running down his spine. That shouldn’t have sounded sexy, but that was just typical for Wade. He could make anything sound sexy.

“ _You make me feel like I’m livin’ a teenage dream,_ ” Wade sang again, leaning back to run hot fingertips down Peter’s chest, flicking thumbs over his nipples. “What do you say, Pete? Will you fuck me?”

“God yes. Yes I will,” Peter said. Wade looked gorgeous sitting above him like that, the color of the apron contrasting with the brightness of his scars, his muscles bulging in his chest, arms, and thighs. He arched his hips up against him. “But I don’t have any–” He glanced over to the nightstand.

“Ooh, don’t you _worry_ ,” Wade said. Leaning back, he reached behind him––in a move that didn’t look very comfortable––and a strange look crossed his face as he squirmed over Peter. Finally he sighed and held up a shaped lump of red silicone. Grinning, he waited until Peter’s eyes widened in recognition before he tossed it over his shoulder. “I am all ready to go.”

“You’ve been wearing a butt plug? This whole time??” Peter gaped.

“Ah, yeah, for several hours actually!” Wade said cheerfully, as if it were no big deal, as if the idea of Wade waiting at home for Peter with a plug up his rear wasn’t super hot. Then he yanked Peter’s hand away from their dicks and started to position himself. “Squeaky clean and slippery smooth. And we’ve already had the awkward healing factor versus STI discussion.”

Wade knew what he was doing. Peter rubbed his hands over those thick, scarred thighs, digging his fingers in lightly when he felt Wade’s hole pressing over his hot skin.

“Wait,” Peter said.

Wade blinked, but stopped. “What?”

“Don’t I have to––I don’t want to hurt you,” Peter said, frowning. He knew the theory of these things, and they’d been fooling around almost constantly lately, but this part was new to him. One thing he did know was that stretching needed to happen.

“That’s what he said.”

“Wade, I’m serious!”

“And I want your dick in me _yesterday_ ,” Wade said, whining and wiggling where he remained crouched over Peter. “That’s what the plug is for. I took care of it earlier. I’m good, okay?”

“Okay,” Peter said, and that was all the signal Wade needed. A moan dragged out of Peter's throat and he tilted his head back as Wade sank down. And down, and down, inch after inch until Peter's cock was all the way in, and Wade’s ass was flush against his thighs.

“Aw, _fuck_ ,” Peter grunted, arching his back. “God, you’re so fucking tight. You sure you’re––?”

Eyes half lidded and cheeks flushed, Wade smirked down at him and rolled his hips. “Oh hell yeah. Your dick feels _fantastic_. I am _so_ gonna ride you like a pony.”

“Nngh, you don’t look much like a cowboy,” Peter said, reverting to sass in the face of overwhelming emotion and the words he wanted to say itching inside of him. He licked his lips.

“My five gallon hat will have to wait for next time, honey,” Wade said. “I ain’t leavin’ this bed until I’m done with you.”

Peter wanted to counter that comment, but he was lost when Wade started moving. Lost in the friction of their bodies, the tight heat inside Wade, and the way Wade’s muscles bunched as his hips canted and his back arched with his movements.

God, this was happening. It was different from them being all hands with each other, it was different from being inside Wade’s mouth. The sweat glistening on Wade’s skin, the shifting looks on his face, the pleased noises he made, they were all intoxicating. Peter was no virgin, but this was _Wade_. Fuck, everything was so different when feelings were involved.

And so much better.

The space between them was filled with hot breath and questing hands, both enthusiastic to be sharing this with each other. Wade continued riding him, continued singing that ridiculous song in Peter’s ear, making it sound a lot dirtier than it was.

Until Peter flipped them over, Wade’s legs spread around his hips. He pressed his hands into the pillow on either side of Wade’s head and kissed him hard, grinding his hips forward to pull a gasp out of Wade’s mouth.

“Fuck, Peter!” Wade groaned.

“Is this okay?” Peter asked. Sweat trickled down his back, but he was too hot to feel cold.

Wade clawed at his back, making him hiss at the pleasurable pain. “Yes, keep going!”

Peter obliged, and loved Wade’s limbs wrapped around him and the angle that was better for kissing. He loved Wade. But he was still afraid to tell him. It felt too fragile. Instead, he murmured praise after praise into Wade’s ear, thrusting into him with a steady, firm rhythm. Wade was strong, Wade had an amazing body, Wade felt so good inside.

“You’re such a corny asshole,” Wade complained, but the look on his face told Peter all he needed to know: Wade loved every word.

Peter grinned down at him, putting his weight on one arm so he could stroke Wade’s face. “I don’t care. You’re perfect.”

Wade’s fingers reached to wipe Peter’s sweaty hair back from his sweaty forehead. “And a goddamn nerd.”

Tilting his head, Peter kissed Wade’s palm, still unable to keep the grin off of his face. He was too happy.

Then Wade shifted on the mattress, and squeezed in a way that was just _good_ , and Peter shut his eyes and moaned. “Fuck.”

“Come on, baby boy, gimme what you got,” Wade panted.

Peter couldn’t say no to that sort of request, so he did.

Several rounds later they finally collapsed, both spent, though Peter more so because of his tiring day. He lay against Wade’s chest, one of Wade’s legs still tucked around his waist, Wade carding fingers through his hair again. At some point the apron had been tossed aside in favor of more skin on skin contact, and Peter loved the feel of all of Wade bare against him.

“Is my Spidey in a better mood now?”

Peter felt drowsy and drained in the best way. He nodded his head a little. “Mm,” he agreed. “Thank you.”

Wade’s hand stilled. “You’re thanking _me?_ For sex? For the privilege of getting fucked by Spider-Man?”

“Mm-hm,” Peter said, nuzzling against Wade’s pecs. “I appreciate you too, you know.”

“Whoosh!” Wade said, moving a hand from the crown of his head into the air. “Mind blown.”

Peter chuckled, and tried to respond with something witty, but sleep jumped up and grabbed him, folding him up in a warm embrace as he lay there with the man he loved. He couldn’t _wait_ until he could tell him so.


End file.
